


Who is the King Beyond the Wall?

by thisgirlnani



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 10:49:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19207846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisgirlnani/pseuds/thisgirlnani
Summary: "With Bran ruling the Six Kingdoms, and Arya being god knows where, I need him.”“You would need him even if Bran and Arya were home.”She doesn't argue.OR Tyrion hears of a King Beyond the Wall and investigates within the walls of Winterfell to find out this mysterious king's identity.





	Who is the King Beyond the Wall?

He’s been on infrequent visits to Winterfell, acting on official capacity. The fewer he visits, he thinks, the better. He knows perfectly well what he represents for Sansa. Though he was kind to her during her time in King’s Landing, he was kin to her worst nightmares, and their forced marriage was a joyless affair for the both of them.

Still, he personally enjoys these visits. It is good to see Sansa thriving up North donning a crown she’d been born for. The people love her, to be sure, mimicking her favored hairstyles and the embroidery on her dresses. The servants beam when she passes by them in the halls, as she makes sure to address them each by name, enquiring after their health and the well-being of their loved ones.

“It all suits you well.” Tyrion comments during dinner. His visit this time in Winterfell, will be brief, but necessary as he oversees the transport of lumber down South, all going towards rebuilding efforts. 

“You’re always kind, Lord Tyrion.” Sansa replies graciously. “Tell me, how does my brother fare?”

“His grace is working tirelessly. I’ve been helping him, but a lot comes naturally to your brother.”

Another smile comes to Sansa’s lips, this one more genuine. “I miss him dearly. He was just a child when everything happened, it’s hard to believe that he’s grown to be King, now.”

 “Ma’am!” A servant girl bursts in, through the doors of the solar. “It’s regarding his Grace. A raven came, addressed for you.” She holds a sealed piece of parchment in her hand, cheeks rosy as though she sprinted to deliver the message.

The servant girl only notices Tyrion seconds later and immediately blanches. “My apologies! I did not realize you had company.” She slips the letter into the folds of her skirts. “I’ll return later.”

Sansa shakes her head, “It’s fine, Mellie. I’ll take the letter, now.”

The poor, mousy thing nods and shuffles over to deliver the letter into her queen’s waiting hand. Tyrion looks to her, though her gaze is firmly planted on the ground. “King Bran sent a message?”

“No,” The servant girl shifts uncomfortably, and there’s a long pause. “It was sent from the King beyond the Wall. “

“Thank you, Mellie, that will be all.” Sansa nods, dismissing her.

The girl bites her lip. “Queen Sansa. Lord Tyrion.” She curtseys and then scurries off. Gone as quickly as she came.

“King beyond the Wall?” Tyrion asks, wryly, when the girl is gone. This is his first time hearing of such a king.

 Sansa smiles tightly. “The wildings have decided it is in their best interest to elect a leader of sorts. The title’s more of a jab at us than for their own purposes.” She settles into her chair, “In the end, it was decided that there were more benefits than risks to maintaining relations south of the wall. A spokesperson for them streamlines that process.”

“And what does Jon think of all this?” Tyrion watches her carefully.

“After all that’s transpired, I’m sure you’ll understand why Jon would prefer to stay far away from any matters of this nature. The last time he did, he saved lives, and still got punished for it. But I’m sure you remember that.”

Tyrion clears his throat uncomfortably, “Of course.” He grasps his cup and drinks eagerly before changing the subject, “Has the King visited Winterfell?” 

“He has ventured down here,” Sansa nods. “He took to Winterfell as though he were born here. They have interest in some of our crops. I’m certain that he’ll be a valuable ally and trade partner to the Northern Kingdom.”

 “Does he wish to trade with the Six Kingdoms?” Tyrion muses, his interest piqued.

 “He’s yet to express such an interest, but I shall ask him, should I see him again.” She smiles sweetly. “More wine, Lord Tyrion?”

* * *

 Curiosity gets the best of Tyrion, and for the remainder of his short trip, he’s set on discovering more about this mysterious King. Frustratingly, little comes up when he questions residents of the castle.

 “I’ve never seen him.” A little stable boy shrugs, picking at a hole in his breeches. “Though, my friend Rye swears he towers over all the Wildings. That’s why he’s their king I s’pose.” The boy muses thoughtfully. “I’ve only seen his dog, I leave out food for him in the stables.”

 “His dog?”

“Aye, but he’s big as a small horse!” The boy’s eyes glimmer excitedly. “Sometimes, he’ll travel down to Winterfell by himself, and then he’ll go back up North to his master. He comes and goes like a ghost.”

“And the Queen allows this?”

 “She welcomes it! The dog is almost half hers, he’s taken such a liking to her. Nobody dares pet the beast but the Queen. One time he almost bit me, Lord Tyrion-“

 The boy regales him of more tales of the dog and nothing of the king, so Tyrion tries his luck on the next person.

 He tries an elderly maid, next, who frowns in deep thought when asked for a description of the king.  “He makes himself scarce around the castle, to be sure. We hold feasts for those wildings, and they’re glad of it, but perhaps their King isn’t fond of the drunkenness and noise.”

 For a king who seems to visit on occasion, it’s odd that no one has a clear idea of what he looks like. When Tyrion prods further she _tsks_ , “I’m always stuck in the kitchen, and I’ve got little ones to supervise.” She turns up her nose. “Ain’t a servant’s job to be nosy.”

One of the last people he asks, a serving girl, barely older than five and ten, purses her lips in thought. “The King beyond the Wall? Yes, I saw him one time.”

“You did?” Tyrion leans in, eagerly. “What did he look like?”

“I only saw his nose.” The girl giggles behind her hand. “The King had his hood up and he was smothered in furs. My mother says he fought in the Long Night and the walkers slashed his face left and right. I would hide my face too if I looked a fright.” She shudders at the very thought.

“Are the king and Queen Sansa close?”

The girl flushes red, “That’s only servant’s gossip.” She shakes her head, scornfully. “It’s true he has audiences with her in the privacy of her solar, but the rumors are exaggerated. The castle all wishes the Queen would take a husband, and so they always whisper when a man visits.” 

“Perhaps she’ll take the Wilding King as her husband.”

“I don’t think she needs to.” The girl replies, softly.

* * *

 

_I used to think you were the cleverest man alive._

Even now, Tyrion remembers Sansa’s cutting words. Her contempt spoke volumes, and though he had tried to deny any truth in her words, the events that shortly transpired spoke volumes on their own, as well.

Still, he has some wits left to piece together this revelation.

He strides purposefully into his next meeting with Sansa, making up his mind to confront her on the issue. “ _The King beyond the Wall?_ He swore to hold no titles, and yet he wears a crown all the same.” 

She pays him no mind, preferring to finish up a letter, scrawling her signature carefully, before even deigning to look up.

“Did you enjoy your conversations with the servants?” Sansa stands at her full height.

 “Jon Snow rules beyond the wall.” Tyrion grits out.

She arches a brow. “Really, Lord Tyrion.” Her tone takes on a scolding tone, as a mother would speak to her petulant child.  “I told you, the Wildings have no true King, he simply acts as a liaison between them and the North. I do not rule beyond the Wall, what right do I have to contest their choice in a leader?”

“You host him at Winterfell, he was exiled from the-“

“Six Kingdoms.” Sansa finishes, sharply. “He was exiled from the Six Kingdoms. The North is independent, as such, we are free to welcome him. We welcome you as well, Lord Tyrion, but that is a privilege that can be taken away.”

 Tyrion exhales, “If word were to get out-“

“Nothing will happen.” Sansa cuts in, once more. Her gaze has hardened now. “The Dothraki and Unsullied would be unhappy, yes, but who would galvanize them to return to North once more?  They lost their Queen, and everyone is tired of fighting, even those bred on bloodshed.” 

“The Six Kingdoms have a very fragile peace, Sansa.”

“And?” She is trembling now. “What do I owe them? The North is my Kingdom and home. Jon and I have been through _enough_. Can we not have our peace?”

The truth is obvious. Tyrion exhales in disbelief. “You love him.”

“Of course, I do.” Her chin sets stubbornly.

 “Will you marry him?”

Sansa scoffs, “He barely visits as it is. You really ought not to have sentenced him, for he has gladly passed his own sentence of guilt and shame. I have offered pardons for him, but he refuses them.”

“Truly a wonder he isn’t Ned Stark’s son.” Tyrion murmurs.

 Sansa wrings her hands together and sits with a plaintive sigh. “He’s content to come and go as he pleases, and I’m content to receive him from time to time. With Bran ruling the Six Kingdoms, and Arya being god knows where, I need him.”

“You would need him even if Bran and Arya were home.”

She doesn’t argue.

Tyrion pinches the bridge of his nose, “I don’t have to tell you to be careful, but warn Jon for me.” Sansa laughs at that. “If word were to get out, and somehow, there was enough animosity, I cannot guarantee that Bran and I would be able to intervene.”

Sansa straightens, drawing her furs closer to her. She looks to her desk, and Tyrion follows her gaze to a letter. Perhaps the messy scrawl belongs to Jon, writing to tell her that he would be home soon, for she looks at it fondly.

“Not to worry, Lord Tyrion. The North will endure. We always have.”

**Author's Note:**

> sansa playing coy "o ya, tyrion, the king loves Winterfell, it's like he was born here!" I could just imagine sansa stark snickering to herself inwardly after saying something like that.
> 
> anyways, idk why i love writing tyrion's POV so much, he's just such an interesting character to me. I HAD to write something regarding the infamous s8 (whew boi) but hopefully, can also get back go working on my WIPs. I have like 80% of the new chapter of Managing Jon Snow in progress so look out for that!! 
> 
> Thanks guys :)


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